Secret of Melanius: A Redwall Legend
by disturbedwolf
Summary: Years after the destruction of Redwall Abbey, a horde led by the Hellbrood of Marakul Deathfand swarms the remains of Mossflower, and set out to capture Salamandastron, the legendary Badger mountain still in existance.
1. Chapter One

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1  
  
Blood stained the grass of a once peaceful meadow. Dead corpses laid unmoving on the tainted earth as war cries were still heard. Hares, otters, squirrels, rats, weasels and other beasts fought paw to paw, weapon to weapon, and the lives were dwindling down by the hour. It was a bloody war between vermin and goodbeasts that would settle all, but only for a short time.  
  
"Give 'em blood and vinegar, chaps! Eulaliiiiiaaaa!" A stout hare called out. She fought with some other's beast's dagger, and lashed out her long powerful footpaw to strike a foebeast squarely in the chest. While doing so, the beast she fought paw to paw with slipped underneath their flying paws and took a quick lash at the young hare's unprotected belly.  
  
She let out a bloodcurdling scream of fury as she slit the throat of the vermin. She quickly wrapped her tunic tighter around herself, hoping her blood loss would be little. She kept on going, finally standing back to back with another hare.  
  
"How many ye' get down, brother?" She asked as she took the ax of a rat and snapped it in two, sending the beast sprawling backward.  
  
"Over a score, I'd say, Lil!" The male hare tossed his head forward, his ringed ears flailing as his hard noggin thrashed against a foebeasts', slaying it instantly. "Look yonder Lil!" He said suddenly, nearly dropping his weapon. "Over there, on the top of the hill! It's the Hell beast and his brood!"  
  
The large and fearless hare leapt away from his sister and charged, with a small pack of vermin trailing behind him closely.  
  
Lilly gave a tremendous leap, trying to see the scene that was happening yards away. For a moment, nearly four rats overtook her, but a fellow ally came to her rescue.  
  
"Well, well, Lilly. Looks like yew need to keep a close eye on wots happ'nin, eh?" A brawny otter chuckled, then went back to fighting.  
  
On the hill, where hardly any commotion was going on, a large wolf stood, leaning on a stump. Only four stood beside him, and nothing else. Except for one who was running head long at them all.  
  
It was a great sized beast, and it was definitely no hare.  
  
"Stand firm, and you shall see how to slay a badger lord!" A great booming voice cried out, pointing to the beast running at them.  
  
Suddenly, all noise and commotion stopped. The only sound was the hard breathing of a badger, and the drawing of a blade.  
  
"Sea scum!" The badger cried out. "You'll pay for the lives you and your vermin have taken since the day I laid my blood red eyes upon you!"  
  
The badger lord hastily drew a large battle ax, that was double sided, and wielded it with perfection. He swung twice, but he was not accurate enough.  
  
The wolf was fast, and quick on his paws. He darted in between the hefty blows the badger sent out and hacked with the rapier he held within his paws. Nay, the dagger was not his normal weapon, but for a battle with a beast such as this, he would be much too clumsy with a longer blade.  
  
The two beasts stood eye to eye as they paused for a split second, and only one of them had shed blood. The badger lord seemed frozen, as if in shock, and then he roared with anger and blood wrath.  
  
He swung his ax with awesome power, and the rats that fled towards him and on his back were thrown off by his anger. He charged at the wolf, bringing his bloodlust filled blows closer and closer.  
  
But the wolf knew no panic. He dodged them with precise agility, and was able to dart behind his opponent, and swing up upon it's back just quick enough to bury his rapier into the soft backing of the large badger's neck. He laughed without mercy and tightened his grip around the dagger. He whispered into the badger's small ear maliciously.  
  
"Time for pay back, old friend," The sadistic wolf cackled. "You banned me from this land and nearly sent me to the Dark Forest! But nay, I came back from its burning doors like always, the Hell beast! And here I am to send you where you belong!"  
  
Warm sticky blood covered his paw as he tried to thrust it further, but the badger shook with anger, rage, shock, and pain. It roared loudly and flung the wolf from his back, swiping furiously at the back of his neck. Weariness overtook him, but his war cries still remained.  
  
"Vermin, Scum! Return again and I shall slay you! I will show no mercy next time for neither you nor your brood! Stay from these shores unless you want to face your death!"  
  
But the wolf could not hear him. He was already unconscious, for when the great badger had relieved him from his back, the large wolf had fallen upon his own blade, thrusting it into his own side.  
  
In an instant, hares and other beasts had swarmed their badger lord, hastily dragging him into retreat.  
  
Just as well, the rats were carrying their own leader to their camps, which were a long distance from the battlefield.  
  
The last thing the badger lord saw after his blood wrath cleared, was the sight of the near slain Hell beast, being carried away by his horde.  
  
___.-~-.___  
  
"Do you suppose he'll awaken?"  
  
"Nay, I think not. That dagger of his was in his side for quite a while."  
  
"The stupid beast who finally took it out... heh, I wonder how long 'twill be until his heart stops."  
  
"Don't talk of such things around his mightiness. If he hears that from yore mouth, 'twill be a sorry sight."  
  
Voices. He heard four voices all around him. Slowly, he was able to identify them, and his raspy throat was able to pursue their rightful owners.  
  
"Kartek, Jakul, Vasrul, and Moroko... my children... what has become of me? Am I at the Dark Forest's gates?"  
  
The last voice, Moroko, answered. "Nay father, you shall live many more seasons. The wound you cast upon yourself was not great, and the dagger was not left in yore side for long."  
  
The large, injured male wolf opened his crusted eyes, finding his brood standing in the corners of the small tent where he rested.  
  
"I didn't think so." He said hastily. "'Twill take more 'n a dagger to slay Marakul Deathfang, the Hell beast!"  
  
Two of the wolves, Jakul and Vasrul, sniggered silently at their father and left the tent, probably heading to the lower ranking tents to pass around gossip.  
  
The other two that remained, bowed respectively, and almost left until the old wolf croaked out to them. "Stay! I need a word with the two of ye'."  
  
Kartek and Moroko passed a glance, and stood straight, walking to the edge of the elder wolf's resting place. "Yes, your highness?" They're voices droned like slaves.  
  
Marakul opened his eyes and peered up at the two. "Lissen, I don't trust yore brother and sister." He whispered, a frown on his muzzle. "Keep a watch on the two, will ye'?"  
  
They nodded mutely, bowing, and left the tent. Neither Moroko or Kartek had taken much notice of what their father had told them, because he often had ideas such as thus.  
  
Many called him crazy and deranged, but he was still a powerful leader and no beast could doubt his word.  
  
Moroko and Kartek silently walked, waiting to hear the laughter and sniggering of their siblings, which they finally recognized coming from a crowd of trident rats. The two joined into the back of all of them, and gazed silently upon what the two wolves were doing.  
  
Vasrul, the female, was laughing and holding something up so that all of them could see. Her broad, male-like voice broke out as she explained.  
  
"Look at 'er mates! 'Ave yew ever seen a blade like 'er? Pshaw! Not even our bloke of a leader has 'un this! I bet it was the very sword that one 'are was wieldin! Yew seen 'im, remember, Snoggtail?" She addressed a burly gray rat, whose arm was slung in an old tunic.  
  
"Aye," The rat answered, blinking nervously. "Nearly chopped me arm off too! A big 'un, 'E wos! His fur wos blacker 'an 'ny rabbit yew ever seen! That looks loik 'is very blade too, yore 'ighness!"  
  
Kartek sharply looked at Moroko, and their eyes both held wonder. Why would any of these lowly beasts call their sister highness?  
  
Jakul shoved Vasrul out of the way and reached for the sword. "Aye, you oaf! Lemme' see that!" He turned it over in his hands, gazing at it from hilt to blade tip.  
  
The hilt was silver, not pure because it would bend quite easy, but made from some strong type of silver, and three jewels were in its hilt. The handle gripping was made of tight sewn fur, the color of midnight black. It was very soft to the touch, but when you took it into your paw it seemed to stick to the rough fur. The blade at the beginning, where it was inset and spouted from the hilt, was wrapped in a dark stone that was set around it. The blade itself was a treasure that not even Lord Deathfang had ever laid his eyes upon. It seemed unreal... like it was pure. It could have melted away if it touched water, but it didn't.  
  
Jakul finally spoke, tossing it and catching it by the blade's end, nearly cutting himself. "I 'ave no clue how that big black rabbit got ahold of a beauty like this 'un! Vasrul! I'm keepin' this blade for me'self, you blaggard! A female don't 'ave no use ter carry a weapon like this 'un!"  
  
A murmur flew through the rats as they gazed upon Vasrul and Jakul. Vasrul finally spoke.  
  
"Nay, a dumb beast like yoreself doesn't deserve it, iffn' I can't 'ave 'er! I'm just as equal as yew, Jakul! An' I know how yore twisted mind thinks!"  
  
Jakul grinned at his sister and laughed, pushing his way towards her. "Aye, you know me inside out, do ye? Well don' fergit who's the brains of all of this. Someday you'll be thankin' me fer the food in yer belly, sister."  
  
This seemed to set the gray wolf off. Her teeth glistened as she darted forward, paws outstretched. The gleaming claws were sharp and unclipped, and they were long and deadly as any weapon. She snarled as they dug furiously into the skull of a rat, who Jakul had place in front of his own.  
  
Vasrul howled angrily and stalked off, licking the blood from her paws. She swore and called behind her, stomping away.  
  
The band of rats was unusually quiet as the female wolf stalked off. Jakul ended the silence as he tossed the slain rat to the ground.  
  
"Well now! Isn't some beast going to clean up this mess! 'Urry now before I get angry!"  
  
The many rats scampered, leaving a few to pick up and discard the fallen form. They didn't speak as they went about their business, and kept their eyes to the ground as they hurriedly did their work.  
  
Jakul didn't wait for the job to be finished, and stalked off after his angered sibling, just after shooting deadly glares at Moroko and Kartek.  
  
After the scene was over, Kartek led Moroko to his own tent, inviting her to take a seat. He filled two silver goblets with a cordial of some sort and handed one of them to his sister, and called for food. A moment later, a small female weasel came into the tent and set down a platter of fowl and fruit. Kartek waved her away and invited Moroko to eat.  
  
The female wolf picked up a bruised pear and nibbled upon it as Kartek spoke. "Quite a scene, eh? I haven't seen ol' Vasrul get that angry since I slew her ol' rat buddy... wot was 'is name... Mekro? Matro? Something like that... but wot do yew expect she'll do now? Yew know 'ow vain and pridefilled she is... mock my word, Vasrul won't give up that purty blade without a fight."  
  
Moroko nodded silently, her pale green eyes large and clouded.  
  
Kartek leaned closer, waving a paw in front of Moroko's face. "'Ello, Moro! Anybeast in there alive?"  
  
Moroko gasped inwardly as she set her half eaten pear down. "Forgive me, Kar... I seemed to 'ave a day dream of some sort... yes, yes... I'm all right now...." Her voice mistily trailed off as she took a large sip from her goblet, then wiping her mouth hastily on her tunic sleeve.  
  
"I do believe Vasrul and Jakul are out to slay us all, Kartek." She said quietly, staring hard at her brother. "Those two are a kind I'ont want to reckon with. They've got pure evil inside o' 'em, Kar. They're not like us and 'is 'ighness... they're beyond wot we are... they're mad, Kar! Mad!"  
  
Kartek chuckled, ripping off a wing of the roasted bird that lay before them. "Mad, dear sister? I think we're all a bit sadistic, and insane... you know how are father is. But really, how do you know they just aren't driven by their need for power?"  
  
Moroko shook her head, pushing away her goblet and pear. "You don't 'nerstand, brother! They are driven by their need for po'er! They crave it and that's wot drives them mad! They'll do anything for po'er! Even slay their own father, their own leader and lord! Ye' don't understand, Kar!"  
  
Kartek stared at her for a moment, and sighed. He was confused, yes, but there was also logic in Moroko's beliefs. He too noticed that Vasrul and Jakul had very little affection and respect for their father, Marakul Deathfang. But how could Moroko sense this so strongly?  
  
"Dear Moro, how do you know this for sure? If it is true, Vasrul and Jakul could slay us all and take the horde for themselves! Do you know how serious this presumption is? If we are wrong, we can be killed for our disloyalties to our lord and his brood! D'yew want that ter 'appen? Do ye'?"  
  
Moroko shook her head and got up, shoving the platter away from herself. "Nay, I don't want to be slain. But I do know wot I've seen, and I don't like all of it." She paused for a second, reaching for her brother's brown paw and taking it into her white, slightly smaller one.  
  
"Brother, you must realize... we are not naturally of violent nature. We are not foxes nor weasel nor corsair! I remember our mother-"  
  
"Our mother?" Kartek asked in disbelief. "Our mother was slain when we were no more 'n babes!"  
  
Moroko gave her brother a hard look and continued. "I remember when our mother told us a tale of a great wolf living in a place where peace and happy creatures dwelled. That wolf was our great grandfather, Kar! Our mother wasn' a murderin' war leader like our father, Kar! We kin be good! I see it every day when I daydream! I know we kin be like our mother an-"  
  
Kartek gripped his sister's paw tighter, making her silence herself. "Moroko, I know a seer when I see one, an' I know you're a seer, sister. Iffn' yew can remember wot 'r ould mother used to tell us when we were babes, then I know you're a seer. You have visions, but they are untrue, well... partly. We'll never be beasts of calm an' tra'kility, Moro... we've drank the blood 'o our en'mies an' we've slain too many. I know the feeling, sister, wen yew want ter lay down yer blade and live like gentlebeasts, but we can't.  
  
"I think tha's mebbe why you 'n me are so faithful to our ould father, because we're loyal, an' I think we're more like our mother, 'n our father. I kin 'member when Lord Deathfang would tell us that our mum was a real purty beast, her fur white as a seabeast's tusks, and blue eyes brighter 'n the sky! I 'member he told us'ns about 'er once in a while... when our ol' backs were sore frum fightin' and trainin', and I knew then an' there that our ol' father has that feelin' too once in a while.  
  
"But we can't, Moro, we can't. We're murderers, Moroko, murderers! We slay gentlebeasts for laughter, an' its our way 'o life."  
  
Moroko silently gazed upon her brother, for one of the first times, studying him. He was big and brawny, not quite as big as Vasrul, who was the biggest of Deathfang's brood, but much bigger than Moroko and Jakul. His fur was the color of rusted earth, and underneath it was a soft, rabbit- like fur that was the color of hardened lava, darker than midnight. His eyes were just like Lord Deathfang's... sharp and narrow, golden honey colored, with tints of rust and canary yellow. He was lanky, like Jakul, but his chest was large and muscular, like his hind legs. Under the cloak he wore, the tip of his tail showed, which was the same, rusty metallic hue as his eyes.  
  
Never once had Moroko really gazed at her brother, and studied his characteristics. She had always just taken him as her father's son or her brother or her ally. She didn't know what she looked like, or what he was thinking as he looked at her, but she really didn't care.  
  
Moroko released Kartek's paw and turned on her footpaw and held the flap open, looking back to bid him good night. "See you in the morn, Kar."  
  
Kartek nodded, then suddenly slung his cloak off of his brown fur. "Here," He said, tossing it to Moroko. "Its cold tonight, and father may need warmth...." His voice drifted off.  
  
Moroko knew he meant that she might check on their father once more before the night was over, to make sure that their untrustworthy siblings hadn't played any trickery during Lord Deathfang's slumber.  
  
Moroko nodded and left, the bitter wind stinging in her eyes. It must be close to winter... She thought as she journeyed to the tent where Lord Rawnblade rested. All of leaves have fallen from the trees... and I'm sure snow shall fall soon.  
  
Just as she was about to reach the tent, something swept up behind her, and bound her arms to her back. Rage filled her as she felt claws ripping at her paws and limbs, and she smelled blood when she drew them near.  
  
Moroko snarled with anger as she flung herself in a curve forward, tossing whatever it was that had tried to immobile her, over her back and onto the ground.  
  
She reacted as she normally would have, and drew her mace from her tunic belt. She stepped a few paces back, and gave the weapon a few light testing swings. "Aye, not so tough now that I've tossed ye', eh?"  
  
The creature was shrouded in a cloak that was now tangling the beast up. It struggled for a moment, then finally it emerged from the dark plum mass of cloth. "Oh I'm still tough an' ready, Hell scum!" The reviled beast cackled.  
  
Moroko saw the beast to be an otter. It was an unusual otter, not like the large, skinny brown ones she had seen during the recent battle, but it was quite small and had some meat on it's bones. A tattoo ran all the way up it's leg, where the otter's paw rested, two short daggers in hand. It was a female, which surprised Moroko, who stepped a little further away. She knew all otters to be just as perilous as any hare, and they had a great distaste for vermin like herself.  
  
Moroko grinned and gripped the mace tighter, licking her sharp fangs that gleamed in the fast rising moonlight. "Aye, wots this about a Hell beast, eh? Wolves are that frightening, are we?"  
  
The otter laughed and knelt further to the ground, preparing to fight. "Not to ol' Sampal Freeblade! I know evil 'uns when I see 'em and yore no angel, wolf!"  
  
Just before Moroko attack, she let out a bloodcurdling war cry that would wake the whole horde. "Deathfaaaaaannng!"  
  
Swinging the mace high above her head she darted forward with all of the grace and agility she possessed. By now, many rats surrounded the two, and were chanting for their lord's daughter.  
  
"Moroko! Moroko! C'mon, knock 'er teef oot, Moroko! Put yore jav'lin in 'er jaw!"  
  
Pressed on by the chants of her horde, she grinned and after she had enough momentum in her paws, she let the mace fly halfway out of her paw and the weapon bury itself in the female otter's right shoulder.  
  
The otter didn't scream, but she moaned slightly, grasping her arm with her left paw, dropping one of the daggers. "Darn yew, vermin! I thought I outran yew there, but yore a quick 'un!"  
  
Moroko leapt over the otter, retrieving her mace that has bits of fur and flesh between its long spikes. It was not a normal mace, for the prongs on the outside of the metal head were made of a metal unknown to most beasts, and the long spikes were not fragile.  
  
She swung it again over her head, beckoning the otter forward, who had taken up her daggers again.  
  
Sampal complained. "This'n ain't fair, wolf! Yew've got a mace an' I gots two liddle daggers, matey! Git a real weapon an' we'll fight fairly, eh?"  
  
The rats and weasels around the injured otter and the wolf booed and laughed, jeering at the otter.  
  
Moroko smugly grinned. "Yew want a fair fight, do ye'? I bet yew think I can't beat yew without my old mai'ece, eh?"  
  
Sampal nodded, wiping her daggers against the earth. "I think yore just an overgrown fox with a head the size of a badger!"  
  
Moroko frowned, tossing her weapon hastily to the weasel who stood behind her. "A big head I've got, eh? We'll jus' see about that, streamdog!"  
  
Sampal rushed forward, her daggers poised and ready to pierce. Just as she jutted her arms out, Moroko leaped to the side, her left foot paw dragging underneath the otters, heaving the brown beast down, and catching the daggers in her own paws. She laughed loudly as she placed her footpaw on the otters chest and drawing one of the daggers to Sampal's throat.  
  
The otter grimaced, looking straight up into Moroko's eyes with a angered look on her face. Sampal was fairly young, but she had lived enough seasons and been in enough fights to know when she was finished.  
  
"Yew out smarted meh, Wolf. I will admit that... yew outsmarted ol' Sampal. But let me go, ol' gal... I'ont mean yew and yore horde no 'arm...."  
  
Suddenly, three more heads peered down at the otter. All wolves. Jakul, Vasrul, Moroko, and Kartek's eyes glittered with malice as they gazed down, laughing.  
  
"Yew hear that?" Jakul asked. "She don't mean us no 'arm! Yew reckon we should let 'er go?" He asked playfully. Vasrul acted like she was completely confused. "Well, she really didn't do us no 'arm, did she?"  
  
Kartek joined in, a sadistic grin upon his face as he touched Sampal's shoulder with his left paw, licking the blood as he grinned like a crazy feline. "Nay, she didn't. 'Cept the one rule we wolves carry with us where ever we go...."  
  
All four wolves leaned in closer, so that their heads were touching and were five inches away from Sampal's nose as they chanted together.  
  
"Eye for an eye, nose for a nose, we keep this rule where ever we go. Bring trouble to a wolf, challenge and mean to slay... you'll never leave the Hell beast's lair until yore debt is paid!"  
  
The wolf siblings' sharp clawed paws reached out for the otter's body, hastily grabbing and ripping, not noticing the blood they shed and the flesh they tore. They dragged her, their claws deep within her body, mangling like a bobcat's, and tossed her against the hull of a worn, half dead tree.  
  
Sampal was screaming in pain as they bound all four of her paws and tied her to the tree, and all the while their claws still ripped at her. She was beyond pain, beyond any spear she had felt. Finally she fainted at the sight of her own blood.  
  
The four wolves were surrounded by the horde, but they all were bowing to the four, softly chanting the Hell beast verse.  
  
After the whole deadly submission ceremony was performed and the horde had milled away, Jakul checked to make sure that the otter was out cold, and he unbound her from the tree, and tossed her to the ground. "Vasrul, tend to her wounds and 'rouse her later... tell her she's been up on that tree for... let's say a week, shall we?" His teeth shone brightly as he laughed maliciously. "Then tell her we took her down out of our unmerciful ways and believe me... she'll serve us thankfully, and she'll always fear! Fear that she'll feel the claws of Hell once more! Muaha! Ha hahaha haha hahahaha hahaha!"  
  
His laughing rang out across the forest, and was heard everywhere... the four wolves cackled in pure evil delight, joined in later by their horde.  
  
Many, many yards away, Marakul Deathfang listened to his children and the comments they stated.  
  
"Vasrul... young Vasrul.... So powerful and leading... and Kartek, so full of life and greatness...." His voice drifted off as his thoughts did, and seconds later he was in a deep slumber. But his last murmur was of his smallest daughter, Moroko.  
  
"Moro... I fear my legacy and power has not reached you... young child, full of rage and sorrow... I do believe yore one to betray me...." 


	2. Chapter Two

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2  
  
Crash! Works of pottery and clay shattered upon stone walls as they were hurled with awesome force. Bits and pieces scattered upon the dusty stone ground of the mountain, and a outraged roar was heard throughout all of Salamandastron.  
  
"Araaaagh! You piece of scum! One day I'll rid you and yore children from these lands and curse your name in hatred! Hell beast, you'll pay for the innocent lives you have taken from this land and this very mountain! Deathfaaaanng yore mine!"  
  
Pikes and swords were then sent at the walls as the badger lord's fury drove him on. Full blood wrath was upon the old male, and his eyes were burning with a desire of vermin's blood.  
  
As soon as the clink and clash of metal was heard, two elderly hares dashed into the foraging room, and were nearly beheaded by a large ax.  
  
"Calm down ye' Majesty! Please yore 'ighness, calm ye'self 'afore the young'ns hear yew, wot!" The two tried to reason with him, and moments later the badger's rage seemed to pass over himself, but his scarred chest and shoulders swelled with angered breathing.  
  
One of the hares moved forward, laying a trembling paw on the badger's back. "Lord Regubbio, has yore wrath passed over you, sire?"  
  
Suddenly, the ragged breathing stopped. All was silent as they waited for the great badger to speak.  
  
"Yes, Dannleon... forgive me friend. I-"  
  
"Now, now old chap, its quite all right..." The other hare jumped in, laying a paw heartily on the badger's back.  
  
The badger's old eyes peered at his friends. "I have no excuse to act the way I do... but I cannot help it. What that beast has done to me-"  
  
Dannleon interrupted. "Don't talk of such things, Regu!" The old hare sharply cut him off. His eyes were filled with sadness, but their clouded pain dissolved as his partner came to speak again.  
  
"Leon is right, old chap... sithee there! C'mon, my ol' pot pan of a wife has been cooking since dawn to prepare the feast we intend to serve this very afternoon! Come, old chap, that's a good badger lord now...."  
  
His voice drifted off as the two hares led their commander out of the room and down a spiraling stair case. The traveled through numerous passages, finally making their way to a brightly lit cavern, scented with many glorious smells.  
  
An eruption of applause roared throughout the large cavern, and the old badger pulled away from his comrades and took his spot at the head of a great, large, and worn table. He smiled warmly, waiting for the younger ones to quiet themselves.  
  
When all was silent, he let out his strong, rich tone flow through the room. His gentle pitches and ascending comforted even the youngest babes, like that of a lullaby melody that mums would sing in times of tantrums.  
  
"Dear and loyal friends... we fought a great battle, we did, only a night ago.... And we lost a great deal of friends and family as well. I mourn for them, as you do... but our life in our mountain shall go on. Salamandastron took a great hit yesterday, I will admit it, and I curse the name of the vermin and his horde who struck upon us. But we resume our lives, filling in holes as best as we can and trying to make peace with our bedraggled souls.  
  
"Which is why, in our time of great loss, I would also like to honor our strengths that were gained. Sir Mosrillore Papilleya Ffarelo Gusttuck, who was a perilous hare and would die for anything of great cause, was found dead yesterday in the infirmary.... I mourn the poor hare, but I also remember how great of a fighter he was... Rill gave all he could for the Long Patrol, and even more. Which is why I would like to honor his son, Camrillo Gusttuck, the title of Sir Camrillo... and one of the highest positions the Long Patrol has to offer. I grant him to take place of his father and follow in the brave line of Gusttucks!"  
  
An ripple of clapping and cheering sang throughout the room and a lanky black hare stood. His dark cheeks were tinted with crimson as he humbly walked towards Lord Regubbio, his paws behind his back and his eyes to the floor.  
  
When Camrillo reached the badger, he looked up, with tears sparkling in his eyes. They were like sapphires, glittering with pride and pain, their dark icy-blue hues standing out of their azure fixtures. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a small rumble came out.  
  
Regubbio laid a hefty paw on the hare's back, his muzzle wide with grinning and gleaming teeth. He smiled less widely, and spoke again.  
  
"Sir Camrillo Gusttuck, I present you with your father's blade. I know you carry your own, but honor your father's as well... as a tribute to his memory. Bless you, Camrillo."  
  
Camrillo smiled as he weakly took the sword, his eyes wide as he held the gleaming weapon in his paws. So many times had he seen this blade hanging on the wall or in the paw of his father. Now it belonged to him, Camrillo.  
  
The black hare roared out in a cry, that nearly shook the whole mountain. Hares of the Long Patrol surrounded him as they joined in with pridefilled tears dancing in their eyes, and chests puffed out with honor as they addressed their new leader.  
  
"Eulaaaaaaaallllllllllliiiiiiiaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"  
  
The feast was long and joyfilled. They dined and conversed for many hours until the moon hung high in the northern skies. Finally, Camrillo pulled himself away from the bunch, and found himself sitting in a quiet den filled with books. His best friend and comrade sat beside him, tears in her eyes.  
  
She was a pretty hare, that went by the name of Lesharr Swiftarrow. She was white as snow, and her fur was soft like a rabbit's. Her eyes always twinkled with mischief and pride, their amber and sienna hues contrasting like sun does to the night. Her paws were bound with wrappings and infirmary bandages like always. Underneath the cloth laid scars, sores, and blisters where her bowstring had cut her... countless times.  
  
Lesharr wasn't like most haremaids, who cared for the injured Long Patrollers in times of need or work in the kitchens every waking hour of the day. The times she lived in now were different than they were in the past. Many times she had heard of tales when haremaids joined mice and otters and badgers and shrews, journeying over the land and conquering all evil in the land. But these tales took place many years ago, and evil had swarmed the land of the once known Mossflower. Oh how she ached to see what it looked like before vermin destroyed its beauty and peace!  
  
Salamandastron was lucky, as Lord Regubbio and her elders often said. When the leader of all this destruction came upon their mountain, the mountain's inhabitants had had luck, bravery, and strength on their side. No one knew the full tale of how Salamandastron was spared from evil and treachery, or any at all really.  
  
The only thing that was talked of about these tales was that Lord Regubbio destroyed the vermin and their power, but only temporarily. This was just now discovered, when the Hell beast and his horde came along only a short time ago.  
  
Excitement ran through the young haremaid's blood as she gripped Camrillo's paw.  
  
"Oh Cam I can't believe it!" She exclaimed. "Your father's sword coming to you! It was destiny, Cam! I can swear my life upon it! Why else would your own blade become lost in battle? Because you, Cam, you were going to receive your father's very weapon!"  
  
Camrillo had different thoughts. "My sword," He said tartly, a smudge of a frown upon his muzzle. "Was stolen by a rat!" He bitterly muttered.  
  
Lesharr disregarded his anger filled comments. "Oh Cam, you know what will happen now? You'll lead us all-"  
  
"Us?" Cam questioned in disbelief. "'Ello, Sharr, anybeast in there? Think of what yore old pater would say! To think... ha! Letting you traipse all over the land with the Long Patrollers!"  
  
Lesharr continued, not even noticing her friends interruption. "-And we'll come upon the ruins of Mossflo'er and the Abbey!"  
  
A shiver of pleasure and more excitement ran through the young hare's body as she grinned at Camrillo. She loved the thought of this, because more than anything she wanted to meet the warrior the tales she read spoke of.  
  
Camrillo gave a playful, yet not so playful swipe to Lesharr's head. "Sharr, get a grip of yoreself! You know your pater wouldn't allow you to go with the Long Patrol! You're a haremaid you idiot! A reckless, thoughtless, and- and- dreamy, tale-loving, mysterious old coot like you doesn't belong in the Long Patrol! Besides, what makes you think any of that stuff yew read is all true? Maybe all of it is just tales and stories spun by an old badger mum to quiet her young ones! And even if Mossfl'or is real, there's nothin' more 'n a swamp and cannibals there!"  
  
Lesharr thought nothing of her friend's acts. Camrillo was very cautious at all times, and was very stubborn as well. He was well known for being a hypochondriac and protested at the littlest things. She grinned at him, pointing Rill Gusttuck's blade at his chest with the end of the hilt touching his tunic embroidery.  
  
"Cam, do you know who you are?! For the love of mighty, yore the leader of the Long Patrol, mate! If anyone decides if I can join the old Patrol, it's you! Besides, yew know anybeast who can shoot an arrow as far and fast as me, old chap?"  
  
Cam took his father's sword from Lesharr's paws. "You crazy, paw- wrapped, delirious hare!" He laughed. Lesharr did have a point... no beast could use a bow and arrow as good as Lesharr Swiftarrow.  
  
He straightened his expression and sighed. "T'night I over heard many older and bigger hares thinking it wasn't right for one as young as me to lead. They think I'm inexperienced and green. If I recommended you to Regubbio on the first day of the job I'd surely be shunned for good! Sharr, you know its up to Regubbio himself.... I cannot grant you a position in the Patrol... I can just command. Remember, friend, I'm still not first in command. And for the love of my father I cannot see why I am! "  
  
Lesharr looked hard at her friend. Cam was big, bigger than most hares, and was nearly three fourths as tall as Lord Regubbio himself. His face and paws were worn from work and training. His hind legs were sinewy, thick, and powerful. His dark, midnight black fur was matted and tangled, but his facial hairs were soft as her own.  
  
"You are very respectful, Cam. Yore one of the best fighters this mountain has seen, I do believe. You never give up, and you're very powerful and perilous. Yore also a great friend, Cam... and I should know that best."  
  
Cam's expression softened as he moved to embrace his friend, but he thought against it as he slipped his newfound blade into his belt. He raised his paw and bid her goodnight, leaving the room to Lesharr and many, many books, filled with her best loved tales.  
  
Lesharr sat down in a large chair, spreading out a blanket over her ivory fur. She opened a dusty volume and sat, enthralled and amazed as she read.  
  
Oh how she wished to be in this place, with red sandstone walls all around her, walking down a well lit corridor, then passing a great tapestry and finding a mousewarrior smiling kindly at her. She could just imagine it all... but how could she ever be this close to it all?  
  
All of a sudden, Lesharr saw the tapestry glimmer like a mill pond that had just been disturbed. The mousewarrior stepped from the piece of art, coming to life. He raised his mighty sword and cut his bindings of thread and opened his mouth to speak. Lesharr smiled warmly and dazedly answered him.  
  
"Oh hello...."  
  
Lesharr's eyes closed softly as she dozed, and finally letting the heavy book drop from her numb arms as she curled up in the chair, deep in her slumber.  
  
___.-~-.___  
  
Sunlight poured into the small room Lesharr slept in, bathing her like a warm blanket. The sheet she had used the night before to cover her body had slipped off during the night, laying in a crumpled heap on op of the volume she had been so indulged in.  
  
A light rapping noise upon the walls woke the dozing haremaid. She opened her groggy golden eyes and blinked twice.  
  
Lesharr stretched her limbs as she struggled to get out of the chair, and fell into the tangled blanket on the floor. She laughed to herself as she got up, tossing the blanket over the back of the chair and straightened her tunic. She quickly straightened the room up, then opened the old wooden door, finding a large female hare standing in her way.  
  
"Lillemum?" Lesharr asked, her voice quivering. "Wot... wot do you want?"  
  
The hare shook her head, frowning. "The badger Lord Regubbio requests to see you..." Her voice drifted off.  
  
Lesharr sighed and followed Lillemum. They walked quickly, and Lesharr wished that the older hare would lessen her pace. She knew what was coming, because it happened often. But never had she been taken to Regubbio himself.  
  
"Lesharr, do not speak until spoken to. It is vital you understand this." Lillemum whispered to her, her eyes filled with sorrow. "Lord Regubbio is in a very sore position and he doesn't want to be tampered worse by your recklessness. Understood?" She asked sharply.  
  
Lesharr mutely nodded, and waited behind Lillemum as they stepped into a large foraging room.  
  
It was very hot, and Lesharr started breathing hard as she wiped sweat from her brow. She shielded her eyes when she saw a hot flash of metal rise in the air and fall, followed by a terrible hissing sound.  
  
Lesharr quivered behind Lillemum, gripping the hare's back fur with intensity. She knew the badger lord was just and kind, but there was no denying the fear any beast felt in their hearts when they saw Regubbio working at his forge. The sledge he gripped in his old, worn paws was large and heavy. It gleamed with a slick black sheen and it reflected the anger in the badger lord's soul every time it fell upon the soft red metal Regubbio was shaping.  
  
Suddenly, the clanking and pounding ceased and from behind Lillemum's back she saw the dim glow of the metal disappear.  
  
Lesharr sighed with relief as the room cooled, but her heart started racing once more when she heard her lord speak.  
  
His mighty voice rumbled like thunder in a summer storm. Lesharr couldn't see the great badger in the dim room, but she saw the angered and pained gleam in his eyes as he picked up what ever it was that he had been forging.  
  
"Yore spear is fixed... I think, Lil. Did you bring the haremaid?" He asked, pounding the hard end butt of the weapon on the stone floor. His voice reflected no mercy as he tested the edge of his weapon, which revealed to be a spear of some sort.  
  
Lillemum stepped forward, nearly dragging Lesharr behind her. "That I have, Lord Regubbio." She answered uncertainly.  
  
Regubbio slowly walked towards the two, and stopped when he was only a few feet away. "Step away, Lilly." He commanded, pointing the spear towards Lesharr's elder.  
  
Lillemum bowed quickly, and moved aside, letting Regubbio see Lesharr in full view. She didn't want to leave the young hare alone, so she decided against leaving.  
  
Lesharr quivered with fear, and wanted to slink to the ground and ask for mercy, but she stood stone still, wishing she had her bow with her, in case a skirmish of some sort would follow this. She remembered Lilly's words, and kept her jaw locked down tight, not letting a breath escape from her muzzle.  
  
Regubbio laid aside his spear, and lit a small bee's wax candle. He waited for the small flame to grown and strengthen until it was well alive, and then placed it onto a metal plate, setting it beside him. The light reflected onto his intelligent face. His striped head and muzzle was glorious indeed, but his eyes were fierce and filled with mixed emotions that Lillemum nor Lesharr could recognize. He raised his paw, and reached out for Lesharr's, speaking low.  
  
"Lesharr Swiftarrow," He addressed her, his voice having a certain sharp edge to it. "Yesterday we found four dead pine martens upon the mountain's outer walls. They were all moderately young, and were painted up as if they ran with the horde of Marakul Deathfang. Do you know who that is, Haremaid?" He asked.  
  
His voice held some secrecy and mockery that Lesharr resented, but she had no choice but to mutely nod. She wanted so badly to open her mouth, but she thought against it and stood ramrod straight once more.  
  
Regubbio continued, his voice lowering in pitch. "Ah, so you do know of the Hell beast. Many, many do not know of him, but we of Long Patrol do. You must have learned of this from the volumes in the library. I believe that is where Lillemum found you this morning as well?"  
  
Lesharr nodded, closing her amber eyes. Would he ban he from her beloved tales and legends? Oh what she would do if he did such a thing...!?  
  
"Haremaids like yourself belong in the kitchens and doing work upon the mountain and serving for the Long Patrol, Swiftarrow. But, back to my point, about the pine martens. I found that they had died... due to the arrows protruding from their chests! Now, now, miss. None of my hares of the Long Patrol can shoot a bow and arrow, and I do not know of any beast in this entire mountain that can even use one properly... save you."  
  
Lesharr breathed in sharply as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut, waiting for him to continue.  
  
"I believe, you are also missing something, eh?"  
  
Lesharr was shocked. How could he know? How did he know? How ever could Lord Regubbio know that she had in fact lost one of her most precious items?  
  
Regubbio's breath grew thick as his temper rose. "Answer me, Haremaid!"  
  
Lesharr nodded quickly, licking her dry, parched lips. "Yessah, I did lose something...." She said softly, barely audible.  
  
Regubbio nodded, backing away from her and picking something up from his foraging table.  
  
Lesharr gasped, her bandaged paws coming to her face.  
  
In his strong, large paws, was Lesharr Swiftarrow's long bow. It was crusted with dirt and mud, but what alarmed Lesharr most was the large gap between both ends. Some beast had ruined her priceless weapon.  
  
When she had first made the weapon Regubbio held, she had used simple, every day limbs off of a young sapling. But a season later she discovered an old oak tree just behind the south mountain wall. It was a three topped oak, but it had been sinking into a swamp for the last few seasons. She had cut off the highest limb and hollowed it out, wrapping, binding, and joining it with her green bark long bow. The bow was very strong and flexible, allowing long, straight paths for her arrows. She had learned such a technique of constructing a bow like thus from an old teacher. Her beloved weapon even withstood the hacking of one of the pine marten's cutlass. Of course, Lesharr killed him and his three comrades for it. She knew all of what Lord Regubbio spoke of, because she had caused it all.  
  
Anger and fury welled up inside of her as tears brimmed at her eyes. Her whole body vibrated with her racking sobs.  
  
Regubbio knelt down, laying a comforting paw of her shaking shoulders. "Lesharr, haremaids are not meant to fight. Young nor old. Your place is in the kitchens and laundry room and infirmary. I do not know why you insist on leading the life of a Long Patroller. But I will not allow it. I know I should not have let you run amuck with Camrillo Gusttuck as long as I did. I knew you would insist on joining him in the Long Patrol, and my predictions are true, but the answer is absolutely not. I cannot risk the life of a young maid like yours out of the fronts of this land."  
  
Lesharr glared up at him with red, tear filled eyes. "And if I wasn't just a haremaid?" She asked spitefully.  
  
Regubbio stood up tall once more. "Then you would be welcomed as the best archer in the Long Patrol. But you are a haremaid, Lesharr, so leave it be!"  
  
Lesharr pointed back at Lillemum. "She was once a maid as well! She is among the highest ranks of the Long Patrol, why cannot I be!? Sooner or later you'll need me, there isn't one hare inside of this mountain that can shoot a bow and arrow like me, Regubbio!"  
  
Lord Regubbio let his paw fly, tossing the spear to the ground with a loud clatter. "Swiftarrow, you anger me with your foolishness! It was not a pine marten that destroyed your bow, 'twas myself. Because you so recklessly ignored our warnings and did not heed us, this is your sentence!"  
  
The badger retrieved his spear, and called out to a beast that waited in the corridor outside of the forage room. Lord Regubbio cleared his throat, and the beast walked in.  
  
It was a very large hare, about the same size as Camrillo Gusttuck. His fur was the color of burnt umber, dotted with specks of a lighter shade of ochre. His face was dark, almost black. Standing out from their obsidian beds of fur were orbs of azure, intense and full of life. His long ears had numerous silver and bronze rings pierced into them. His paws were rough and large, holding a spear nearly identical to the one Lord Regubbio was clenching. At the tip of its long end, an iron cast badger head was welded into the unusually light metal that the spear was formed of.  
  
The hare turned towards Regubbio, then to Lillemum. "M'lord... Lilly...." He said softly. His voice was rich and smooth like a harmonious saxophone.  
  
Regubbio nodded towards Lillemum and handed her the spear he had been foraging, which was, indeed, exactly the same as the other hare's.  
  
Lillemum took the spear from Regubbio and gave Lesharr an apologizing look as she turned to the newcomer hare and greeted him softly.  
  
"Brother... Feral Thorspear...." She whispered, testing out the sharpness of her spear.  
  
Feral nodded curtly to his sister and crossed his spear with hers. They stood before Lord Regubbio, and Lesharr was caught in the middle of it all.  
  
Regubbio gave Lesharr a hard look as he nodded at the two sibling warriors. "Tell her the sentence."  
  
Lilly and Feral cleared their throats, looking at Lord Regubbio as they spoke fiercely as one.  
  
"Lord Regubbio, your judgment is passed, and the sentence is for Lesharr Swiftarrow-Delaney. They paused, remembering the name of Lesharr's deceased father. The two resumed their speech after murmuring something to themselves that sounded like, "May his warrior spirit remain with us and his soul rests in eternal peace."  
  
"The haremaid will remain under the watch of Mother Kafray, and will serve in the kitchens and cannot leave the premises of them unless sent with a token of passing. If caught near the armory or trying to fashion her own weapon, she will be taken under trial of loyalties. Admission to knowledgeable areas are denied until further notice."  
  
After the two hares' voices stopped, Lesharr felt her whole body go numb. The kitchens? No exceptions? But worst of all, she thought... not having access to her precious and valued legends. Not to mention she would never feel the excitement of waxing her bowstring and drawing a fine, true arrow to it and holding the bowstring far back and letting it fly... let it soar in a straight and true course.  
  
Lord Regubbio spoke, breaking the silence. "So be it."  
  
Lesharr felt the hot sting of tears pour from her eyes. She closed them tight as both Lilly and Feral took her paws, and bowed to Lord Regubbio.  
  
They escorted her away from Regubbio's foraging room, and it was all final. Feral spoke softly to Lilly as they slowly walked.  
  
"Regu was hard on this 'un." He whispered.  
  
Lilly nodded, looking down to the haremaid who was softly crying. "Aye, he wos. A pity, you know... she can use a bow good, right Sharr?"  
  
Lesharr looked up into the gentle, warm eyes of Lillemum and sighed, nodding. She was too numb with devastation to answer.  
  
Feral clapped Lesharr on the back. "Don't fret, little one. Regubbio is strongly opposed to maids fighting... he only allows Lil and a few others to fight among the ranks of the Long Patrol because they were born outside of these walls and were brought up to fight."  
  
Lesharr could not keep unspoken to this. "I also was born outside of the mountain...." She whispered, not being able to look into Feral's bright cerulean eyes. "My father's best friend taught me all he knew about using a long bow."  
  
A wistful look was caught upon Lesharr's face as her eyes clouded as she thought aloud.  
  
"Harquill Roundspike was his name... he was a big hedgehog. He was very gentle to me... raised me like my own father in fact. When... when my mother died he was the one who acted in her place when my father was too distraught to care for me. I never blame him, my father.... He lived a warrior's life of struggles and victory. When corsairs killed my mum he was overtaken with grief...."  
  
Lilly nodded. "Feral's grandmum was here at the time when you and yore father came to Salamandastron. When ever she mentioned old Delaney Harperedge she quoted, "He never did heal properly... he always hurt."  
  
Lesharr sighed. "I don't remember him, my father. Everyone talks of him, but all I can see or imagine is a silver backed hare holding a one edged blade and a look of sadness and pain in his eyes."  
  
Suddenly, her temper raged. "How can the badger lord do this to me?!" She cried, pulling her arms from Feral and Lilly. "All I've ever known is to defend and fight... that's all I ever knew as a babe! Save the fact of learning to read and write, but to cook and live like... like... ugh!"  
  
Looks of dismay passed over all three hares as they hopelessly continued down the corridor, on their way to the kitchens, where Lesharr Swiftarrow's new life would begin. 


	3. Chapter Three

-------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
3  
  
Jakul was in an exceptionally bad mood. The past week had been rainy and cold, not to mention the frost that came in the mornings. His two siblings, Kartek and Moroko, were enjoying the crisp and cool weather. However, he was miserable. Of course, both he and his sister Vasrul were also quite angry with their brother and sister. The latest incident of Sampal Freeblade the otter had heightened Moroko and Kartek's status among the horde... and lessened Jakul and Vasrul's.  
  
The young male wolf rose from his bedding and hastily dressed himself in a warm badger skin cloak. It was rather gaudy, with the skull of the old badger resting upon the wolf's head, striping down the black canine's back. Because it was so densely furred, it kept the warm climate partial wolf at perfect temperature.  
  
He quickly armed himself with a blade and exited his pitch tent, walking in a bee line towards Vasrul's tent. He passed many stoats, who froze and bowed respectively. Only when Jakul's back was to them did they resume their work.  
  
Finally he reached his sister's tent. He scraped at the wooden poles that held up the ramshackle shelter, and heard a loud "Come in ye' ol' blaggard!"  
  
Jakul entered the tent, finding Vasrul sitting and painting a shield.  
  
"Grace of the Great, dear Vasrul." He greeted.  
  
Vasrul did not look up until she had finished a streak of red upon the wooden shield. "Same to you." She said curtly. "A cold morn, is it not?" She asked, motioning her head towards the hefty cloak Jakul wore.  
  
Jakul gave her a toothy grin. "Aye, this cold weather agrees with Stripeclaw more than it does with me." He said cunningly, recalling the name of the badger who had once wore the fur he now did. "Wot about you? Decorating armor on a frosty morning?"  
  
Vasrul nodded, dipping her tool in a murky blue puddle. She stroked it across the wood, and finally the lines took shape of a skull with large fangs, blood dripping from them. "Aye, a ferret captain approached me about repainting her mate's shield... it was worn, ye' know. Of course I said yes... I have nothing better to do, now that all of the stoats gather around Moroko, daddy's pet." Her tone was filled with disgust and she was silently seething in a pool of hate as she silently cursed her ivory furred sister.  
  
Jakul nodded. Vasrul had always been friendly with ferrets. She conversed with them more than any other band of rats or weasels.  
  
"I'm leading a raid into the mountain soon," He began, grinning, "And I need some trustworthy captains. You and I know who most of them are but I also need a few more. Also, We need to be painted up... so that those little rabbits don't forget us."  
  
Vasrul nodded, her face not showing emotion. "It shall be done. But... pray tell, why is father choosing the smallest of his brood to lead a raiding party into Salamandastron?" She asked, slightly disgusted that she was not consulted for the job.  
  
Jakul had expected his sister's grudge. "Because we are only taking a small force anyway. Besides, we don't truly need brute strength to poison their captains...." His voice drifted off as his eyes glitter with malice.  
  
Vasrul cackled with delight as she nodded, motioning her brother forward.  
  
Jakul positioned himself in front of Vasrul, closing his dark, glittering eyes.  
  
Vasrul brought her painting utensil forward to meet her brother's forehead, streaking two bold lines of cornflower blue from the top of his eyelid, all the way down to his jaw. Putting a new color to her tool, she made crimson fang shapes below and above his black muzzle.  
  
Normally, she would have brought the murky war dye to a hot, flustering boil so that the markings would scar and burn deep within the flesh and fur, remaining forever. However, Lord Deathfang always taught his brood never to tattoo yourself up like any other lowly beast. All of the wolves demanded special treatment, as he would put it, and were higher above any beast in the horde... and that was why there was never a rebellion between lords and horde beasts... ever.  
  
After Vasrul finished, she laid her tool down with a satisfactory smile, Jakul opened his eyes and brought the badger skull upon his head again as he rose. Nodding to his sibling, he exited the tent.  
  
Vasrul busied herself by cleaning up her sharp and intricate tools, also spilling the leftover dye into a large pot. After wiping her paws on a small strip of bark, Vasrul dressed herself in a heavy cloak, much like her brother yet it did not bear a skull upon it, nor a hood.  
  
The largest of the Deathfang brood had always thought that she shouldn't have to hide her face. She should let all beasts know that she was Vasrul Sythclaw: Terror of the Southern Shores! Vasrul knew her father did not approve of she and her brother Jakul's high ambitions, but he did nothing to stop their plotting.  
  
Stupid old fool. She thought to herself. He digs his own grave now... he's too far in over his head and he is blind to myself and Jakul. He thinks we are still the same innocent babes that he had once taught with a wooden sword and shield!  
  
As Vasrul tightened the cloak around herself and walking out of her tent, she approached a ferret, unusually large and brawny like herself.  
  
However, the ferret seemed to have spotted her first. "Your highness... such an honor to see your face upon this cold morning. It warms my soul to have a kindred spirit by my side as a treat myself to scourging the land for vittles, as your father Lord Deathfang the Hell beast requires me to do so."  
  
Vasrul smirked, greeting him by softly touching his rough and scarred paw. It was just as big as her own. Sometimes, Vasrul swore he was half wolf, or even badger. Most ferrets had small, skinny, and compact bodies. Their paws were small and dainty, more suitable to shooting bows and arrows.  
  
"Poetic as always, Sethra. Father put you to work, I see?" Normally, Sethra took orders from his own captain, or Vasrul herself. It was a rare occasion when Lord Deathfang himself sent a beast on a mission, and it meant that his joints were troubling him.  
  
Sethra nodded, his eyes clouding with boredom. "Yes, unfortunately. I was hoping you'd reassign me to something else and let some other wretch like me'self do the honors of egg scoffing."  
  
Vasrul had to laugh at his words, as he was clever and comical. She studied him for a moment, wondering what was churning in his mind, past his lively oculars.  
  
Sethra Han was dark chestnut colored... almost liver chestnut, instead of the burnt ochre fur that covered the bodies of most ferrets. His left ear had two small silver earring hoops in them, Vasrul's work of course. He had no tattoos, for he found them too medieval and barbaric.  
  
However, Sethra's face was always alight. His bright green eyes sparkled like stars in the dark, and showed his expressions and feelings when ever they shifted upon Vasrul. His paws were a shade lighter, almost a flaxen, blonde color. Sethra always claimed he was unusually colored and so large because his mother was of different origin.  
  
Vasrul finally spoke, averting her gaze from his light jade hues, unable to stare into their unreadable depths. "I wonder when the ol' blaggard will finally die from his aching joints." She said, pondering over the thought as she disgustedly laughed. "'Twill be a glorious day when he goes the Dark Forest and leaves me'self in charge of the Sythclaw horde!"  
  
Sethra noted the dangerous gleam in her eyes. "Vasrul, your brothers and sister are not complete idiots. How shall you overpass them...? Triple crossing is a treacherous and reckless thing to do, my friend." He warned softly, tightening his grip on her paw.  
  
Vasrul shook his paw away. "I'm ten times smarter than those idiots! Wot are yew talking about, Sethra? Triple crossing! Ha! It only takes two intelligent minds to make three lies work!"  
  
Sethra sighed, and ran his paw around his ear, fiddling with the hoops. "Vas, I hope you know wot you're doing."  
  
Vasrul laughed wickedly and pulled him close, whispering her deadly message in his ear.  
  
___.-~-.___  
  
For Sampal Freeblade, life was miserable.  
  
It was bad enough to lose the use of her right arm and paw, but to remain a slave for life... now that was something she did not enjoy quite at all.  
  
She weakly tried to hold up a silver platter as she slowly walked towards the tent in which Marakul Deathfang was residing in. Sampal could not walk fast at all, and she had to practically drag herself due to the iron ball and chain connected to her footpaw.  
  
Sampal staggered for a moment, nearly dropping the whole entire tray. Darn those wolves! She thought bitterly as she regained herself and got into the motion of dragging one footpaw and gingerly stepping with the other. I'm completely useless now! They tore up me pore beautiful coat with those knife like claws of theirs and even tried t'make meh think that they spared me out of their ol' generosity! Pish posh, I'd rather they let me die! The holt 'as no use for an 'alf lame warrior!  
  
Sampal finally reached Lord Deathfang's tent. She slowly ambled in, hastily setting the tray down with a loud clank. The voice that greeted her sent a chill up the female otter's spine making her back fur stand on end.  
  
"Well, well, well... finally get yore sorry hide over here, Riverdog?"  
  
Sampal slowly turned to the wolf reclining in a mass of furs. "At least my sorry hide 'snot ready to die!" She gritted her teeth, which had been filed down so that she could not bite anyone or anything, and spat at him.  
  
Marakul lunged out at her, doing as best as he could to hide his grimace. "Fool! 'Twill be you who will die 'fore me, Streampig!"  
  
Sampal knew she was at mental, even though not at physical, advantage. She laughed in his cringing face.  
  
Some beasts said that wolves make their captives crazy. Hallucinations and evil, mad thoughts always ran through the slaves' minds... and they were running through Sampal's as well. She was relatively young, but now she couldn't even care what would ever happen to her.  
  
"Is that a true fact, Deathfang?" She challenged back at him. "You don't watch yore back enough, wolf! One day... no, now it's killing you! Idiot! Yore dying day is coming upon you, Deathfang! Soon their will be no Marakul nor Fang... only death! 'Tis yore blood I smell! The Dark Forest dogs are coming fer ye'!"  
  
Anger, but more than that, fear, coursed through the wolf's veins like ice. When he tried to move his paws cracked like stiff frost, but it was all inaudible.  
  
Marakul started shouting, screaming with blood pounding in his ears as he ordered that the crazy, wrath stricken otter be taken away from his premises.  
  
___.-~-.___  
  
"Lesharr Delaney, I'll have yore excuse of a tail for that, wot!"  
  
Lesharr Swiftarrow tried to stifle her laughter. In her paws she held a sack of cooking flour, and her paws were in a squeezing motion, yet they were froze as she pinched it.  
  
She stared into the face of Mother Kafray, yet the face she saw was caked and coated in a thick, white cover.  
  
"M- m- mar-r-r-m!" She giggled continuously. "Please forgive me marm... buahaha haha hahaha ha!" The young white haremaid dropped the nearly empty sack, her expression suddenly changed.  
  
"Oh- oh- oh no, oh no, no... oh no please, Feral, don't tell Lord Regubbio! Please don't!" She cried out desperately.  
  
In front of the haremaid stood the large dark hare, Feral Thorspear. He was not carrying his weapon, but a small scroll instead. He leaned down to whisper into her large pale ear.  
  
"No use tellin' me, wot! Ol' Motha' K'fray will tell the Lord 'imself! Better apologize t'make thy punishment smaller. Look lively now, young chappess!"  
  
Quickly handing the scroll to Lesharr, Feral exited the room with haste.  
  
"Neffer dos loike ee kisshins, ee dos'n! Ee says et be tew 'ot furr de gudd zurr! Naow yung'n, lukk at dee messers yew've mayed in 'ere, burr aye!"  
  
Lesharr had to slightly laugh at the elderly mole. "Yes Kafray, please forgive me... 'twas an accident, I swear it was!"  
  
The hard faced molewife's expression did not change. "Oi mai bee de only moler en de big gurt mouwtin, but oi knows wen ee loiyin an wen ee be tellin ee gurt fibb! Lordy Ragubbayo wel be 'eerin abaot dis ee will, burr aye!"  
  
Lesharr grimaced. "But please Mother Kafray, I just simply cannot be referred to the badger lord again, or I'll never be-" Lesharr stopped herself, and she looked down at her white sprinkled footpaw.  
  
"Yoll neffer wot? Bee en ee Rong Petroll, ah? 'Airmayeds doon't beelon' en ee petroll eneewoise! Mayeds loike yew beelon' en ee gurt 'ot kisshins, aye thoy dew! Naow yew cleen dis messer up roight naow missee!"  
  
As the molewife stalked off, Lesharr heard a pair of giggles. She discarded the scroll Feral had given her, for the time being, and secretly took a small flexible spatula, strung some thin wax wire on it, and found a wooden spoon.  
  
"Aye, come out of there yew too 'afore I come find you!" She threatened, almost breaking out laughing to herself when she looked at her makeshift bow and arrow.  
  
Lesharr heard more giggling and she sighed, drawing the wax string tight and letting the spoon fly through the kitchen air.  
  
After the whoosh of the spoon, she heard a squeal and a whining sound. Seconds later, two other haremaids approached Lesharr.  
  
"Stupid beast, look wot you've done to me pore head!" One of them said. The other nodded, and glared at Lesharr. "You know you're not supposed to be having any kind of weapon in those injured paws of yours! I'm telling!"  
  
Lesharr laughed, unstringing her 'bow' and placing the two items back where she found them in the cupboard. "Rosehart, you seem to forget who you're talking to!" She said, in a dark, mysterious tone.  
  
The second haremaid, the one who had been 'attacked' by a wooden spoon arrow, whispered to her companion. "That hare isn't one to pick a fight with!" She warned. "I hear she's mad and crazy, cos she wants to join the bally Long Patrol, wot!"  
  
Rosehart shook her head, speaking so that Lesharr could hear. "Mallira, stow yore gab, wot!"  
  
Lesharr and Rosehart stared daggers at each other. Rosehart was a spoiled child, Lesharr had recognized, because she wore only the prettiest and rarest patterns on her dresses. She had rosy hues on her cheeks that, personally Lesharr thought, made her look like a tattooed vermin. Lesharr tugged at her tunic, sighing.  
  
"Leave me be, and I'll leave you two alone fer the time being. Shift yoreself now before Mother Kafray comes back, or I'll-"  
  
Before she even said another word, the two spoiled haremaids darted off. She laughed to herself, seeing her bully personality had won out once more against the others.  
  
She really didn't mean to bully the other haremaids that worked in the kitchens, but they shunned her like a smelly vermin, and Lesharr detested it. She had always been taught that she should stand firm and never back down on her dreams or challenges that would approach her during life.  
  
Besides, Lesharr thought darkly, Why should I act like everyone else to that spoiled brat Rose. She expects everyone to bow down on one knee, kiss the ground she walks upon, and do anything and everything for the lazy little beast!  
  
Lesharr pushed aside her anger filled thoughts and shifted her gaze upon the scroll Feral had brought her. She dusted herself off with an old rag and scrubbed at her dirty, flour covered paws. After cleaning up, she picked up the scroll and unrolled it. The young white hare immediately recognized the spiraling penmanship to be like none other than a badger lords. She breathed in deeply, then read very slowly.  
  
To thee that goes by the title of Lesharr Delaney Swiftarrow:  
  
Upon the hearing of the misconceptions in the Salamandastron kitchens, punishment is to be served upon thee. However, the punishment is not of all unjust. You are to be removed from your daily kitchen services. Yet you may not sit about idly, and you will be a running maid to Lillemum Thatchferl. However, there are certain rules. You will not be allowed to follow her or do her biddings that deal with the services concerning the Long Patrol and further investigations. The hard circumstances of keeping thy away from any knowledgeable resources, and thy armory are still in existence. There shall be no exceptions, unless you are instructed by a noble soul.  
  
From the word and pen of Lord Regubbio, Badger Lord of Salamandastron: Greatest land form of the southern seas.  
  
Lesharr sighed, rolling the parchment back up. She tossed it into a pan and sat down in a corner with frustration. Why must they be so hard with her! Yes, it was true she would rather be in service to Lilly rather than be under the watchful eye of the molewife Mother Kafray. But still, in many ways, she had less rights than ever! She knew Lillemum would try to be as nice and friendly as she could, but as of this moment, Lesharr was a servant. She had less freedom than ever!  
  
Lesharr cradled her head in her bandaged paws and softly wept, hoping no beast would come near her for quite a long spell.  
  
  
  
Moroko rose in the vividly lit night and abandoned her tent. All was quiet around her, yet the moon that rested high in the sky spoke like an angry mother scolding a child for abandoning his studies. Restlessness always occurred on such nights, when the moon was at full alignment.  
  
She heard the snores and snuffling of the sleeping vermin that surrounded her. Extending a paw behind her head, she gave an irritated patch of fur a rough scratch, until the itching went away. She wore no cloak over her ivory body, for the breeze remained silent.. for the time being. The silence hurt her ears, and she gazed up into the bright night sky that allured her so. As a wolf, she was slightly enticed with the moon. Marakul had centered his children on believing that the moon was made up of great Wolf Warriors, and when another conqueror passed away, the moon would grow larger, and would keep getting more ominously big as the spirits of the warriors kept flowing.... But that was just a myth, or so Vasrul believed. Moroko thought that there was some truth to it, and every time she saw the full moon, she thought of her father's old tale.  
  
Dazing off, staring at the moon, her thoughts were suddenly broken when she heard something in the distance. It sounded like... yes, it was somebeast murmuring to another. Grey tipped ears swiveled in the direction of the voice. Slinking to the ground, she tried to close in.  
  
Immediately, she recognized the sharp baritone voice to be owned by Jakul, her brother's. She could just barely pick up the rough words that tumbled in a rapid manner from the male wolf's muzzle.  
  
"Don't you dare let anyone know you're there, Sethra." Jakul scolded loudly. "I object completely of your presence in this troupe, and if it weren't for my sister, you'd have been scolded and dismissed in a heartbeat! We're there to poison only ten or so water barrels, no more. If they start dying lick ticks, then they'll know something is up. Be careful, and don't put in a whole bunch of that there tonic. Understood?"  
  
In the darkness, Moroko saw Sethra nod quickly and curtly, and answer. His voice was filled with a hatred, matching closely to the scorn in Jakul's. "Don' worry, none, wulf. I ain't stupid, an' yew know it. As fer ye' sister, yew know we're jus' fr'ens."  
  
Moroko froze, as it suddenly hit her that Jakul didn't just share a hatred for ferrets, but that he was jealous of Seth and Vasrul's relationship. An overwhelming feeling overcame her senses, and a flood of worry swept past her thoughts, drowning her in abyssal images of the poisoning raid on Salamandastron. What was Jakul and her father thinking?! 


End file.
